


Deutsch-Polnische Freundschaft

by LtTanyaBoone



Category: X Company (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Female Friendship, Gen, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22614439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtTanyaBoone/pseuds/LtTanyaBoone
Summary: snapshots of the evolving friendship between Krystina and Aurora, pre-series (English story)
Relationships: Aurora Luft/René Villiers, Krystina Breeland & Aurora Luft, Krystina Breeland/Tom Cummings
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	Deutsch-Polnische Freundschaft

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this well over a year ago, but then I never posted it. The title means "German-Polish Friendship".
> 
> due to the nature of the show, cw/tw for **death, World War II, Third Reich/Nazis, Holocaust**.

“Do you have any scars, tattoos or other identifying marks?”

Aurora swallows thickly before slowly shaking her head no.

“No, nothing,” she answers, before feeling her eyes widen, and opens her mouth again as she remembers that particular scar on her body.

“Wait, actually, I do,” she tells the redheaded woman in the Army uniform. “I have one, on my chest. It’s from a bicycle accident when I was a child.”

The other woman nods, moving in the swivel chair behind her desk as she picks up her pen and makes a note in what Aurora assumes to be her file.

“I need to see that,” she tells her, causing the blonde to furrow her brows, suddenly feeling strangely uncomfortable and somewhat defensive. She doesn’t tend to think about it, doesn’t really remember the scar, unless it’s incredibly cold out and it gets irritated. Or, if someone is touching it, tracing their fingers over the raised flesh-

She shakes her head, trying to shake those memories, and focus on the present moment. Sees the redhead look up, her brows dipping, before her previously stern expression softens.

“Show me yours, I show you mine,” she offers and unbuttons her uniform jacket before standing and pulling her blouse from her dark green skirt to lift it. There, on her pale stomach, is a raised mark, not unlike the one decorating Aurora’s chest. The blonde swallows thickly at the sight.

“Shrapnel?” she asks, surprised to hear the other woman let out a laugh.

“I wish,” she shakes her head and tucks her blouse back into her skirt before sitting. “My brother and I were chasing each other through the woods when we were young. I tripped, there was a tree branch in my way when I went down.”

Aurora finds herself flinching in sympathy. That must have really hurt, especially as a child. She feels the redhead’s eyes on her and returns the gaze with a slight tilt of her head before she realizes what she’s waiting for. Draws a nervous breath and reaches up to undo the buttons on her khaki uniform shirt. They gave them the nondescript recruit uniform earlier and Aurora put it on immediately after. It feels, strange. Especially the pants. She’s rarely worn them in the past, it will take some time, getting used to these.

“There’s another one, on my knee. Same accident,” she tells the other woman as she leans over, pressing a metal ruler against the skin of Aurora’s chest, to measure it. The cool sensation makes goosebumps break out on her skin, making her shiver.

She doesn’t ask the other woman, why she needs to know these things. Why she needs the measurements. Has a sinking suspicion that this is something she is better off pretending to be ignorant about, is better of not thinking about for too long.

“Show me?”

This time, she leans forward and starts rolling up the leg of her pants without hesitation. Her scars, they are not something she feels self-conscious about. Truth be told, she tends to forget that they’re there most of the time. The accident happened such a long time ago, Aurora can’t really remember her skin without these marks.

“Thank you,” the redhead nods, sitting up again. Marks the picture of the figure in the file with two crosses. One on the left leg, one on the chest, approximately where one would find Aurora’s scars on her body.

“Did René…” she starts, trailing off uncertainly.

“Our doctor does the, detailed questions, with the men,” the redhead tells her before looking up. “Normally, our nurses would do this, but they are pretty tied up, right now,” she adds, watching Aurora with a carefully controlled expression.

“I know that you’re not going to want to answer this, but we need to know,” she starts, swallowing. “Have you ever been, or are you currently, pregnant?”

Aurora feels her eyes widen, indignation rising inside of her as she shakes her head.

“No,” she breathes, her brows dipping. What kind of question is that to ask? Why would they do that? Unless they see her as some, some common whore. Has she been that stupid, disclosing her relationship with René to them? She hadn’t thought that they would be so shallow, that it would make them think she’s the kind of girl who would spread her legs for anyone.

“We always ask the female recruits that question,” the redhead says as she makes a note on the file.

“I highly doubt that,” Aurora bites back. Sees the redhead’s pen stop moving, her jaw working.

“Is there a chance you could be?”

“Excuse me?”

This time, Aurora’s voice rises, both in volume an pitch with her indignation. The other woman looks up at her before sighing. Caps her pen before leaning back in her chair.

“When I started working here, there was, a female recruit. Her name was Hannah. She died,” she tells Aurora, making the blonde’s heart jump into her throat. “Hannah bled to death in a barn, unable to get help. Because she was in Europe, in a country run by the Nazis, unable to go to a doctor, or hospital, when she suffered a miscarriage.”

“I’m so sorry,” Aurora breathes, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Now let me ask you again. Is there a chance that you might be pregnant?”

Aurora blinks, her mind whirling. Opens her mouth to tell the soldier no, that there is no way she’s with child. But she hesitates, unable to make the words pass her lips. Looks away, her cheeks heating with embarrassment.

She hears the redhead let out a soft sigh before she leans forward again, grabbing her pen as well as a note.

“We will do a blood test. If it comes back negative, you’re cleared for field work.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Aurora whispers, her heart hammering in her chest.

“Then you have a career as a journalist to fall back on,” the soldier remarks nonchalantly, returning her attention to the sheet of questions she was working off of.

“Any history of drug use, or alcoholism, in you or in your family?” she asks and Aurora feels herself relax a little as she shakes her head no.

* * *

“Looks good.”

“Not too short?” she asks, attempting to smooth down the dress in hopes of lowering the hem of the skirt a little.

Krystina steps closer, giving a gentle tug at the material before she lets her hand trail down Aurora’s back as the blonde watches her in the mirror.

“No, it’s good,” she decides and Aurora nods, shifting and reaching up to catch the dress as the redhead moves to unzip her.

“How much more?” she asks, stepping out of the dress. She watches as Krystina walks to the rows of women’s clothing.

“A few more outfits,” she tells her, frowning at a blouse she picks out and then shakes her head, putting it back and moving on.

“We’re looking for something versatile, things that can be worn for different outfits, different combinations and occasions. A blouse that works for someone that might work in a shop, but with the right skirt and jacket can be worn to a club as well,” she explains.”

“I need other shoes,” Aurora tells her as Krystiana hands her a different outfit. “The last pair had heels that were too tall, I might trip with those.”

“Noted,” the redhead nods, giving her a smile before she starts scanning the shelves of shoes, looking for a pair of heels that will allow for emergency sprints and running from Nazis.

* * *

“A bath, with real bubbles. And chocolate. Real hot cocoa, like you could get, before the war.”

Krystina lets out a soft sigh and closes her eyes at the memory.

“Silk stockings,” the redhead adds to Aurora’s list, hearing the blonde sigh in appreciation.

“What else?” she asks, stealing another small piece of chocolate from the bar laying open on the bed that the two women are currently sitting on.

“Men,” Krystina offers, rolling her eyes as the other Canading arches a brow at her. “I mean how they used to be, before all this. Without the uniforms, without pretending like they’re all so tough and fearless and all that.”

Aurora inclines her head, choosing, for once, not to comment. She likes René like that, she has to admit. Likes the feeling of safety she gets, from being with him, and how protective he can be, where she’s concerned. But even René has his moments of doubt, and when he does, when the mask slips a little and Aurora can see the René she got to know in France. Can see the person he was when they first started out, in that small Resistance cell in Paris. And she thinks, she may love him even more, in those moments.

“Oh,” she murmurs, sitting up a little, remembering. “Vanilla cream filling.”

“What?” Krystina asks with a laugh. “Vanilla cream filling?”

Aurora shakes her head, swatting at her friend.

“I’m serious,” she insists, smiling softly at the memory. Thinking of how things were, in Paris, it reminded her, of this. “There used to be a little café, in Paris. It made the world’s best eclairs, I swear. They were, they were really, really good. But these days, with all the rationing, everything just tastes so bland…” Aurora trails off with a soft sigh, rubbing her fingers over her forehead.

“I miss our family dinners,” Krystina suddenly says. “My mother would stand in the kitchen the whole day, slaving away. And when we sat down in the evening, there was so much food you had to be afraid the table would buckle under it…” she trails off with a sigh. “We still do them, but it’s not the same, with the rations.”

Aurora swallows, leaning back against the wall. Smoothes out the leg of her pants, picking off a fleck of dust.

“Do you think…” she starts, hesitating. “Do you think that, it will e worth it? All these sacrifices…”

She feels Krystina’s eyes on her but can’t make herself look at the redhead in that moment. Can’t meet her eyes, her heart hammering in her throat.

“What do you mean?” the other Canadian asks her, searching Aurora’s face.

“What if,” she starts, exhaling loudly. Draws a deep breath, in an attempt to gather her courage. To say what’s on her mind.

“What if, we lose.”

“Then we need to get used to Sauerkraut and Wiener Würstchen,” Kryistina quips, but when Aurora closes her eyes tightly instead of laughing at the joke, or even smiling at it.

“Aurora?” she asks, reaching for her friend’s hand. Takes it, and Aurora scrambles to turn her own and give Krystina’s fingers a hard squeeze.

“It’s been thirteen weeks,” she whispers, clenching her eyes shut against the tears that have been welling up.

“Lotte still hasn’t written?” Krystina realizes and watches her friend shake her head, thankful that the redhead understood, that she didn’t have to say the words. That Krystina understands the kind of worry she feels, for her cousin.

“My father has not heard from his parents in weeks, either. He was trying to get them out, but his contact didn’t get back to him, and now he can’t reach them-” Aurora cuts herself off before she can deteriorate into panicked ramblings, the kind of which have been floating around in her head for days, weeks now.

“Hey,” Krystina mutters, sitting up and touching Aurora’s cheek to get the blonde to look at her. “I’m sure they’re fine. They, they probably found a way out of Germany by themselves, and simply weren’t able to make contact before they left. If they are in transit-”

“I know,” Aurora shakes her head, reaching up to wipe away a tear that’s managed to escape her control. “I know,” she repeats self-consciously. “It’s just, they are my family. I worry about them. Omi is old, and I know my Opa would never leave her…” she trails off, closing her eyes again to draw a deep breath, get a grip on herself.

When she opens them again, most of the moisture is gone, her lips curling into a sad smile as Aurora shakes her head.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“Don’t worry about it,” the redhead tells her. Swallows, and then forces a smile.

“I miss jazz, too,” Aurora says, trying to get back to the topic the two of them were on before she had to go and, and ruin it, by going all hysterical on the redhead. “I miss blaring it loud enough for the neighbors to come knocking. And dancing. Dancing, into the early hours of the morning, until my feet felt like they were about to fall off.”

“It’s not like you do that here. Wait a minute,” Krystina responds, a teasing lilt to her voice, and Aurora feels her lips tug into a soft smile.

“Last I saw, it was you dancing. Only there’d been no music, and it was much closer to midnight than daylight,” she replies, making the redhead’s eyes widen in surprise.

“What?” she breathes.

The blonde lets out a laugh at the redhead’s shocked expression.

“It’s a good thing you don’t work in intelligence, with a poker face like that,” she tells her and gets up from the bed, holding her hand out to Krystina. The other woman hesitates briefly before taking it and allowing Aurora to pull her to her feet.

“You know,” the blonde starts, smoothing out the shoulder squares on the redhead’s uniform, “when René told him to go flirt with one of the waitresses, Tom told him to do it himself.”

There’s the briefest flicker of, something, in Krystina’s eyes, before she shakes her head.

“What does that have to do with me?” she frowns. Aurora shifts, studying the other woman’s face before her eyes flicker to Krystina’s neck, her attention remaining there. She sees her swallow before the redhead forces herself to relax and tilts her head at the blonde.

“What?” she asks, and Aurora shakes her head.

“Nothing,” she tells her, breaking into a large smile as she takes a step back.

“But you might want to get that racing heartbeat back under control. Before Sinclair crosses your path,” she tosses at her before she turns around and saunters from the room, leaving Krystina to gape at her, before she hurries after Aurora, yelling the blonde’s name.

* * *

“Sorry,” she apologizes softly as she feels Aurora flinch underneath her fingers.

“No, no, keep going,” the blonde says, starting to shake her head before she pauses with a wince, having pulled on her hair with the motion of her head. The hair that Krystina is currently trying very hard to pin into a somewhat more complicated updo, a magazine clipping taped to the mirror that Aurora is sitting in front of.

“I think we may have to give up on this one,” the redhead sighs. “You have lovely hair, but it does appear to have a mind of its own,” she tells Aurora, making her chuckle softly as the blonde reaches up, fingers working on pulling out the bobby pins that Krystina used to keep part of her hair up before realizing it would be a fruitless endeavor. When she’s done, she runs her fingers through it and shakes out her hair, drawing a soft laugh from the redhead.

“Your turn,” Aurora declares and gets up from the chair, motioning for Krystina to take a seat. She does, helping Aurora take out the pins that hold her red hair back from her face and get it into something that follows uniform regulations.

“I think Harry might have a girlfriend,” Aurora tells her as she starts running a brush through Krystina’s hair slowly, working out some minor tangles and the kinks left behind by the pins. The redhead feels her brows shoot up in surprise as she meets Aurora’s eyes in the mirror.

“Harry? A girlfriend?” she repeats, frowning. This is the first time she’s heard of anything like that.

“He got a letter yesterday,” Aurora tells her. “I saw him reading it a few times, and when he’s not doing that, he’s clutching it in his hand.”

“It could be from his mother,” Krystina shrugs, closing her eyes when she feels Aurora’s fingers on her scalp. It’s been so long, since she had time to go to a salon. Since someone else washed her hair. The massage that comes with that always makes her relax and feel like breathing has just gotten a little easier. She should probably see that she make an appointment soon.

Instead of continuing her efforts to part her hair, she feels Aurora’s fingers apply more pressure, gently moving along the redhead’s scalp.

“You’re an angel,” she murmurs, allowing her head to fall forward and relax as she closes her eyes.

“I don’t buy it,” she hears her friend reply and Krystina swear she can hear the frown in her voice. “Would you keep a letter from your mother like this? Tucked to your chest?”

“No,” Krystina admits, sighing as the gentle pressure eases and Aurora starts parting her hair. She straightens a little, to meet Aurora’s eyes in the mirror.

“I had one from my brother in my jacket,” she confesses, her cheeks heating with embarrassment at the confession. She’s sure that Aurora, she’ll laugh now. Krystina is a grown woman, she works for the Canadian military, for Heaven’s sake. Yet she carried that letter around with her for over a week, afraid of letting it out of her sight. As if keeping that piece of paper in her uniform pocket would somehow keep her brother save, could somehow protect him.

“Harry is the youngest, I don’t think he feels that way about his brothers.”

The redhead lets out a sigh, wondering if their brains ever shut up. There is such a thing, as prying too much. Knowing too much about the members of your team. She has been trying to tell them that for weeks, now. But they keep at it, keep trying to figure each other out, their secrets, the things that they would rather keep to themselves.

She hates this stage. When teams fall apart and have to be reshuffled. When the members push and shove at each other’s boundaries until they cross the line and the others retaliate until they’re rendered practically useless in the field due to their infighting.

Some teams pulls through. The members figure out where the line is. They toe it, certainly, only stepping over it when it is really necessary. She hopes this team will. They’re good people, and they make a great team, together. Neil is great at following orders, at shutting off his emotions and getting the job done. Tom can sell anything to anyone, Harry is exceptional with the radio, and Aurora’s background in journalism makes her an amazing asset in an interrogation. And René somehow manages to be able to lead this ragtag band, manages to keep them together and focused on the job at hand.

“Perhaps you should let it go,” Krystina says carefully. And feels Aurora’s hands still as she looks at Krystina’s reflection in the mirror.

“I won’t question him about it,” the French-Canadian replies, brows furrowing as she returns her attention to Krystina’s hair, fingers working quickly.

“Aurora-”

“The boys have been teasing him,” the other woman interupts Krystina’s attempt at an apology. “I just, I want to look out for him. He deserves someone doing that for him.”

With her statement, she puts in the last pin and takes a step back to admire her work, leaving Krystina to blink in surprise at the quickness with which the blonde had worked.

“How did you-”

“Come,” Aurora interupts her with a bright smile, picking up Krystina’s uniform jacket and holding it out to the redhead. “Let’s show Tom. You have to tell me if it stays up during dancing.”

* * *

“He’s an ass.”

She’s not sure where the words come from, but the teary laugh Aurora lets out at them makes saying them worth it.

Krystina smooths down her skirt and walks over to sit down on the steps of the barracks next to her friend. Who shakes her head and tugs at the tissue in her hands before using it to dab at her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Aurora mutters softly. What for exactly, Krystina isn’t sure. Slapping Neil in front of everyone, with such force that it had echoed through the whole room. Or storming out right after. Or maybe it was not returning for roll call. Which had been when Krystina had gone to see where she was.

“Did Sinclair…”

“He sent me to make sure you’re okay,” Krystina shakes her head. “He’s not that angry, only worried.”

She tries not to get too involved, with any kind of conflicts within the teams. Being mediator, it runs the risk of not taking care of the issue, but only covering it with a flimsy bandage, for a moment. One that will end up failing, under the strain of working in the field, especially in a country hostile to them. Teams, they need to figure out their issues themselves, and if they can’t, then the camp needs to know, so their members can get reassigned.

“It’s not like you to lose your temper like that,” she remarks, watching Aurora.

The other woman shakes her head, her jaw working.

“You should have heard what he said,” she mutters angrily and stands suddenly, pacing a few steps, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“To you?” Krystina frowns.

She meant what she said, earlier. Neil can be an asshole, a rather exceptional one at that, too. But he usually has his reasons, for being a pushy pain in the ass. That he ended up riling up Aurora and upsetting her so much she slapped him in front of everyone, that doesn’t seem like something the man would usually do. Not without good reason, at least, but as far as Krystina is aware, he had none.

The blonde shakes her head, a shaky breath escaping her.

“What did he say?” Krystina asks, leaning forward a little. Watches as Aurora shakes her head again.

“He was out of line,” she declares before turning to look at Krystina. “He told Harry he had to get his head out of his ass or he would end up like Albert.”

She cannot help the involuntary cringe at those words.

The French Resistance member is still an extremely sore spot, even three weeks after his death. René recruited him, after Sinclair gave the okay. Krystina knows that it had been Aurora’s impassioned speech, her glowing praise for the young French man, that had convinced Sinclair to give the go-ahead. Krystina read the reports, she knows that part of the reason that Aurora had pushed to hard, for him to included, was that she’d seen the same fearful bravery in Albert that is also present in Harry. Her and the man had become quick friends, he’d been an exceptionally quick study and immense help during their mission.

His death had been no one’s fault. A very bad case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Yet Krystina has been seeing the suppressed anger. Has seen the guilt every time she looks at Aurora, every time she crosses paths with René. To have Neil say something like this, even if he’d aimed it at Harry, who has been completely shaken, out of sorts… She shakes her head.

“I’ll make sure he eats at his bunk tonight,” she tells Aurora. Vows to have a few, choice words, for him, later on.

Aurora draws a deep breath, allowing it to leave her slowly, her careful control returning to her. Krystina can see it, in the way that she pushes back her shoulder, how her head seems to sit differently on her neck, in the tension across her face. The perfect soldier returning for duty.

Damn this war.

* * *

“Careful.”

Krystina’s voice is soft, intended not to startle the other woman. Aurora looks up from her book, an eyebrow rising in silent question.

“Someone might think you are conspiring with the enemy,” the redhead says. Motions towards the book in the French-Canadian’s hands.

Aurora rolls her eyes and closes it, slowly rubbing her hand over the cover.

“Where did you even get that?” Krystina asks before shaking her head.

“Forget I asked,” she adds quickly. The book looks tattered, like it has been handled many times, read a lot. The question isn’t where Aurora got it, but how she managed to bring it into Camp X. Either she smuggled it in, which, in all honesty, does not stroke Krystina as something her friend would do. She has worked too hard, to be here. There is too much at stake, for Aurora, to be risking her status as an agent.

And if she did not smuggle it in, it means that it was allowed inside. In which case, it is a personal item of significance. Meaning the book belonged to either Aurora, or someone in her family, someone she was very close to.

“Omi gave it to me, when I was little,” Aurora says. Krystina feels her eyebrows twitch, her eyes darting to the cover again. Reads the title again. She recognized it as German because of one of the letters, but now she actually reads it, her brows shooting up in surprise.

“Fairy tales?” she asks, walking over to the soda to sit down next to the blonde. Aurora shrugs, her teeth worrying at her lower lip before she manages to stop herself. It’s a tell, a rather obvious one at that. Krystina knows that they have been working on getting the frequency it shows up down, but it can be a hard habit to break. And Krystina is not entirely sure she approves of the method that the team has been using to get her to break the habit, either. After all, René will not always be around, so hi kissing her every time Aurora bites her lower lip really isn’t a feasible option, when they’re out in the field.

“I needed, a reminder. That in the end, good triumphs. And that, if it doesn’t, it’s not the end yet.”

Krystina swallows thickly at Aurora’s words, a large lump in her throat. She closes her eyes and draws a slow, deliberate breath. This week, has been hard, but today has been especially difficult. She needs a reminder, herself.

“Which one have you been reading?” she asks, in an effort to distract herself from her musings. Aurora swallows thickly. Lets out a sigh and hands over the book.

“None,” she admits, her voice soft. “I was just, staring at the page. I couldn’t concentrate. I keep seeing them…” she trails off with a shudder, looking around the room.

Krystina kows what she means. She has been having a hard time focusing, herself. Every time she looks up, she sees the Danish team. Sees them everywhere. Thomas sitting at the piano, long fingers trailing over the kys in a lazy melody. Birgitte laughing at one of Arndt’s jokes, the chess board sitting between the two of them. Lars and Olaf arm wrestling over who gets the bigger plate at dinner. All of them, within these halls. Walking together, or by themselves. Easy smiles and joyful laughs and drunken singing. All of it, gone forever, in an instant.

“We’re going back to France. Five days from now,” Aurora’s voice interrupts her thoughts. Krystina’s head whips around and she stares at her in surprise and something that feels surprisingly like fear bubbles up in her chest.

“Sinclair told us, after dinner. Details of the mission tomorrow, the next days to prepare…” the blonde trails off.

It’s a familiar pattern. Krystina knows it, knows it well. But she didn’t know that this particular team was going back into the field. It leaves a bad taste at the back of her mouth. She has the feeling that this, it hadn’t been some accidental oversight, but that she was kept in the dark deliberately. Hopefully, it’s because of her friendship with Aurora, and not because someone found out about her and Tom and tattled on them.

* * *

“I…”

Krystina nods wordless as Aurora falters. The redhead swallows hard and reaches out, to squeeze the other woman’s upper arm.

“Tell Leo I am looking forward to his next message,” she says, trying to force an optimistic smile.

Goodbyes are hard. Always have been, ever since she got here. She tries not to let them drag on. Short and sweet. ‘Save trip’ and a curt nod and then she’s gone.

Usually.

This time, she cannot quite make herself turn away. Can’t help but linger as the team makes some last minute checks on their belongings and equipment, Harry fussing with the radio. René biting his thumb as he studies the map of the area they’re going to be dropped into intently and tries to remember all the big landmarks and where they are, in relation to one another. Neil’s jittery, bouncing his leg as he sits, his head resting against the wall. Tom’s nose is stuck in his French-German dictionary, as if that is going to help him at all. He’s bad at either language. Americans, hopeless, the bunch of them, Krystina catches herself thinking before giving a sharp shake of her head.

“Can you, relay a message? For me?” Aurora asks her suddenly, her voice low. Krystina’s brow furrows. There’s something uncharacteristically breathy, in her friend’s voice.

“Sure,” she nods. “What is it?”

No time to ask, for long explanations. Like why Aurora waited until now, to ask her. Who she wants the message to go out to, why she is not sending it herself…

“This,” the blonde says, handing Krystina a tattered envelope. It’s crinkled, the lines from where it has been folded again and again starting to dissolve.

“I, I wrote this. For, my parents. In case…” she trails off, eyes skitting away nervously. They find René’s form across the room, the sight making her relax a little.

“I just, I don’t want them, to get the standard telegram.”

“Of course,” Krystina nods, accepting the envelope. Looks down at it before she gives a sharp shake of her head. She leans up, pulling Aurora into a close hug. She has to lean up onto her tiptoes before Aurora bends down slightly and wraps her arms around Krystina’s body in a tight hug. Feels her hold tighten and Krystina closes her eyes, holding on for dear life.

“Aurora,” Sinclair’s voice cuts through their hug. Krystina pulls back quickly. To her surprise, there are no tears on the other woman’s face, none in her eyes. She expected there to be some. Can feel moisture in her own eyes, threatening to spill.

“Bye,” Aurora mutters and gives a short wave at Krystina, before walking over. Accepts her pack from René. Krystina doesn’t miss how, while Sinclair gives the team some last minute instructions and reminders, René’s free hand is holding onto Aurora’s so tightly she can see his knuckles whiten.

She stays, until the team has left. Lingers for a moment longer before she finds the energy to return to her desk. Drums her fingers against it, for a moment, before turning around to pull open the cabinet behind her. Pulls out Aurora’s file, steadfastly ignoring her own handwriting on the first page. It’s been such a long time, since her entrance interview. Since that slightly overcast day when the two of them met for the first time.

Krystina places the letter inside the file and closes it again, shoving it back into the cabinet. Closes the drawer and sinks back into her chair slowly, closing her eyes as she sends a quick prayer up that this will be a promise she won’t have to keep.

_fin._


End file.
